Pine Star and the Killjoy
By Mel Thompson
()
About this ebook
Taylor Caspari hates Christmas and everything to do with it. When he's sent by his company, DBS Fashion, to bring a contract to the fashion model and YouTuber they're signing as their holiday line ambassador, he does so grudgingly. He'll be in and out, no issues. That's what he thinks, at least, until he meets the new ambassador: The Flaming Star, also known as James Hong, who is gorgeous and outrageously flirtatious and, apparently, far too observant. He catches Taylor's dislike of Christmas right away, and well--James has never met an itch he didn't want to scratch. He wants to get under pretty, buttoned-up Taylor's skin, and this might be the perfect way to do just that.
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Pine Star and the Killjoy - Mel Thompson
⍋
✧˖°₊ Pine Star and the Killjoy ✧˖°₊
Mel Thompson
Pine Star and the Killjoy
Copyright © 2023, Mel Thompson
Published by Painted Hearts Publishing
Smashwords Edition
About the Book You Have Purchased
All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.
Unauthorized reproduction of distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
Pine Star and the Killjoy
Copyright © 2023 Mel Thompson
Author: Mel Thompson
Editor: Sydney Maples
Publication Date: December 2023
All cover art and logo copyright © 2023 by Painted Hearts Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Publisher’s Content Guidance
While generally thought of as a joyous time, the holiday season can be difficult for many. As with some in our community, and in the world at large, there are characters in Pine Star and the Killjoy who deal with issues of depression and self-harm. Because these issues have shaped who the characters are within their world, Mel has depicted that struggle realistically. We at Painted Hearts Publishing fully support that decision, but also realize that some readers may find some of the content triggering. If you are such a reader and feel Pine Star and the Killjoy is not for you, we would invite you to check out another of Mel’s works or an alternative title in our holiday catalog.
If you’re someone struggling with these issues, know that you are loved and you matter.
There are resources available to help you, even if all you need is someone to listen:
The Trevor Project: (call) 1-866-488-7386 or (text) START to 678-678.
Trans Lifeline: US (877) 565-8860 / Canada (877) 330-6366
US Suicide Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255
Beyond Blue Australia 1300 22 4636
✧˖°₊ Part 1 ₊°˖✧
Taylor
I feel like it starts earlier every year. It’s barely November and the grocery store is already stocking fruit mince pies and wrapping paper. At least—and it’s a small mercy—they haven’t started with the Christmas music yet. I avoid the aisle covered in Christmas garbage and try to ignore the themed bunting and the banners proclaiming holiday sales and bargains. I feel like I’m walking through a minefield. And it’s only November.
Stella, I’m home,
I murmur as I nudge the door open with my hip, carrying a stuffed grocery bag in my arms like a swaddled baby. I greet my mutt, who snuffles curiously at my sneakers. Miss me, hun? Yeah, I know you did. Sweet girl.
I crouch down to scratch her fluffy brown chin. I honestly have no idea what breed she might be—she’s black, brown and white, with a thick coat and one standy-uppy ear, one floppy ear. She’s my favourite person in the whole world.
Yes, I know she is a dog. My point stands.
I rise back up and head into the kitchen, beginning to put away the groceries I’d bought for the next few days. Stella follows along, sitting by my feet and watching me struggle to reach the highest shelf. I raise an eyebrow at her. Who are you to judge? You’re shorter.
Work is getting started early, too. Over the past couple years, I’ve campaigned alongside my co-workers to have less focus on Christian holidays. Rather than just shutting up about Christmas and Easter, management decided that meant celebrating every holiday their employees recognised. Eid, Hannukah, Lunar New Year. But they still put particular effort into Christmas, which is why there’s tinsel on the doorways and candy canes on the desks.
This is ridiculous,
Hussein, my co-worker and only friend, huffs. I’ve shared a desk with Hussein ever since I started working at DBS Fashion, a crowded little space in the corner by the big window and the pot plants. He’s a giant teddy-bear of a man who wears the most colourful outfits I’ve ever seen, somehow without ever clashing. Right now, he’s glaring at the non-denominational tree which is casting twinkling lights onto our shared desk. I am too.
I can’t believe they put a tree up in November,
I tell him.
Wait till my wife hears about this. She’s already fed up with school forcing the kids to make Christmas wreathes.
"Whoa, man, don’t say the C-word. They’re holiday wreathes." I put on a laidback surfer dude accent, mimicking that of our manager, Greg—the kind of dude who will say my name and pronouns with the deliberate air of a dog waiting to get a treat.
Hussein laughs. I’m grateful, at least, that he’s not on board with all this rubbish. I don’t know how I would deal with some happy-go-lucky, baby Jesus worshipping yuppie right now. Or even just a nice normal person who doesn’t hate Christmas carols with a burning passion.
And then Greg pops his head out the door, catches my eye specifically, and beckons me into his officer with a saucy eyebrow wiggle. Oh, fuck.
"Taylor! Hey man! How are you? Kicking names and taking ass? I know you are!" Greg claps me on the shoulder and steers me bodily towards the rolling chair opposite his desk. It creaks under my weight.
Of all the bosses I’ve had, Greg is definitely not the worst. At the very least, I’m pretty